


Sweet Dreams Are Made of This

by bisexual-killian-jones (aelover867)



Series: Captain Guyliner and the Savior [9]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, it means you're awake in someone else's dream, prompt, that one myth where if you can't sleep
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-29
Updated: 2014-11-29
Packaged: 2018-02-27 09:41:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2688044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aelover867/pseuds/bisexual-killian-jones
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Emma had horrendous insomnia during her year in New York, whereas Killian couldn't stop dreaming about her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sweet Dreams Are Made of This

**Author's Note:**

> hawkbisexual is an enabler and gave me this prompt. So, here you go :)

Emma Swan had horrendous insomnia during her year in New York.

She would lie awake at night, staring at the ceiling of her apartment, just unable to reach that slumber she so desperately craved. She would be undeniably exhausted during the days, which never really helped her when she had to go chase down bail jumpers. But sometimes, on the days when she had absolutely nothing to do, she would be able to sleep. And she’d end up crashing in the most awkward of places: the couch, the kitchen table while eating cereal, even the toilet once or twice (which made for an awkward discovery by Henry whenever he returned from school.)

Emma resorted to taking melatonin every night, which of course didn’t help her a single bit. She would go to a number of sleep doctors, who would prescribe her endless medications that would supposedly help her insomnia.

But no deal.

Emma would still lie awake at night, tossing and turning in her too-large, too-empty bed. For some reason, Emma felt as though she was missing something as she laid in the bed.

Or someone.

Someone that she just couldn’t remember.

<> 

Killian Jones was plagued by dreams of Swan, of the woman he had loved but had lost in such a cruel way. Just when he thought he was able to redeem himself from the horrors of his past, she was snatched away from him. It was as if life had to continue to remind him that he didn’t deserve redemption, or a good life, or _her._

It wasn’t like he hadn’t already known that.

All he was was a wretched pirate with one hand and a drinking problem, as Pan had so graciously reminded him of in his returned to Neverland to rescue Swan’s lad. He didn’t deserve the light that Emma Swan had brought into the dark pit that was his life.

He would dream of her every night-in every inn he’d sleep at, in every alley he passed out in from drinking too much rum (ironically, to silence those very dreams that haunted him), in the Jolly Roger when he stole her back. He would dream of her flaxen hair, the jade of her eyes, the way her hair gently curled down her back, the adorable dimple in her chin.

There would be those dreams, of just watching her run through endless fields of buttercups and poppies, watching her smile just for him. Then there would be dreams where he lost her all over again as she fell into a never-ending black pit. And well, then there would be the dreams that made even _himself_ blush if he thought about them while he was awake.

Killian was completely under Emma’s spell, even if they had such a short amount of time together. And he would hold onto those dreams until he found a way to her again.

<> 

“You look miserable, Mom,” Henry had said as they sat together at the kitchen table, eating their large breakfast on Saturday morning.

Emma had sighed as she tucked a piece of her hair behind her ear. “I’m fine, kid.”

Henry had raised his eyebrows in disbelief, but decided to drop the subject. He had turned back to his pancakes with a huff and Emma had slowly sipped on her coffee. She hadn’t had all that much trouble sleeping last night, for once. But she had been haunted of dreams of this _blue_.

_His eyes were of the blue of the forget-me-not, and of a profound melancholy._

Emma had internally shaken her head, just thinking she had been reading far too much _Peter Pan_.  She had looked back to her pancakes and swore that she would just forget about the stupid dream.

The one about the man with soulful, almost _familiar_ blue eyes.

<> 

He had looked out across the ocean, watching as the deep blue waves crashed into the hull of his ship. That night, he had been cursed with the inability to fall asleep. No matter how long he had laid on the lumpy mattress of the captain’s quarters, he couldn’t find the sleep he had so greatly coveted. So he had given up and headed onto the deck to stare at the night sea, his long leather jacket billowing in the soft breeze.

“Captain?” Smee had called out, alerting Killian to his presence. “Captain Jones?”

Killian had clenched his jaw tightly and looked over his shoulder to see his first mate looking for him, slowly creeping up the steps to where he stood near the steering wheel.

“It’s Captain Hook to you, Smee,” Killian had replied, putting on his pirate façade because he knew he wasn’t the same man he was before he met Emma Swan. “What is it?”

Smee had opened his mouth, then shut it like a bloody fish out of water. Killian had sighed, hearing the cheers from the port they were docked at. “Spit it out, Smee.”

Smee had held up a small piece of _something_ and cleared his throat, patting his red hat carefully as he had walked the final steps toward Killian. “I found this by your cabin doors.”

Killian had furrowed his eyebrows and snatched the thing from Smee, which appeared to be fabric. He had opened the folded fabric and read the quickly scrawled message. His heart had expanded in his chest because he now knew how to find his Swan.

Killian had smiled, the first time in that entire year, and told Smee, “Smee, I think it’s time for us to depart this port.”

<> 

They laid together in the bed they now shared in Storybrooke, deliciously sated from a busy night of marking each other. Emma curled up to Killian’s side, her fingers twirling their way through Killian’s chest hair, reveling in the way the course hairs felt under her palm. Emma sighed sweetly, still unable to believe that this was the life she now had. That she had Killian back from the brink of something Emma didn’t want to think about. Emma smiled weakly as his heart gently pounding under her hand, thanking whatever higher being that there may be that he was safe and sound.

“Did you keep your promise?” Emma asked, her voice loud in the quiet room.

“Hmm?” Killian hummed sleepily, his stump resting beneath his head.

Emma shook her head into Killian’s chest. “Never mind. It’s not important.”

“If it’s on your mind, of course it’s important, love,” Killian responded, his voice carrying more volume than before.

Emma sighed and propped her elbow beneath her, so she could look down at those stormy blue eyes and _wow_ she needed to stop staring at them before she decided to pounce on him again. “Did you keep your promise? During the year we were apart.”

It wasn’t another moment before Killian nodded. “Aye. I dreamed of you ever night and thought of you every day.”

Emma nibbled on her bottom lip and she felt a blush rise to her cheeks. “I think I dreamed of you once.” Killian’s eyebrows shot up on his forehead in surprise. “I didn’t know who you were, but I saw your face. It was actually the day before you found me.”

Killian smirked. “I barely slept the night before. I was on deck when I got the message because I just couldn’t sleep. And well, you know what happened after that.”

Emma furrowed her eyebrows as she recalled the year with no memories (as she had taken to calling it.) “I remember I had really bad insomnia that entire year. I could hardly sleep a wink during the nights, but I could sleep like a log during the days.”

“Curious, isn’t that?” Killian mumbled into Emma’s hair as Emma laid her head back onto Killian’s chest, sleep slowly creeping up on her.

“Yeah, it is.”


End file.
